Scorched
by Carol
Summary: A remix of Newspaper Taxi's Burned from the remix challenge at Hoodietime…An encounter with a nasty poltergeist leaves Dean a little worse for wear.   Sam tries to make it better…Hurt! Doped Up!Dean  Awesome!Sam


**Scorched**

**By Carol M.**

**Summary: A remix of Newspaper Taxi's Burned from the remix challenge at Hoodietime…An encounter with a nasty poltergeist leaves Dean a little worse for wear. Sam tries to make it better…Hurt! Doped Up!Dean Awesome!Sam**

**Spoilers: Season 1 boys**

**Disclaimer: Don't own em, only love em**

**Note: A big thank you to Newspaper Taxi's for letting me play with her awesome drabble fic Burned. I'm a huge fan of her writing and was thrilled that she gave me permission to remix her muse's offerings. Hopefully, I did her story and her talent justice. **

**On with the remix…**

"Alright Sammy, you know the drill. We bust in and play beat the clock. Hammer North, South, East and West with a hex-bag and blow that ugly mother of a poltergeist right back to Oz. No muss, no fuss, and with any luck, we'll make it back in time for the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "That's on tonight?"

Dean claps Sam on the back. "Damn straight, my brother," he says with a wry, salivating grin, his eyes sparkling in pervy anticipation.

No muss, no fuss turns out to be a little more complicated than expected.

Barely halfway in the old house and lights are strobing, furniture's shifting. Basically, the beginnings of what some would call a snafu.

Dean kicks the toe of his Timberland into the wall, ignoring dive bombing stuffed animals, packing the hex-bag in as far as it will go. "Sam! I got North! I'm heading West."

Sam's fending off an aggressive orange-and-green afghan while simultaneously cramming his hex-bag into the wall, deep into plaster and drywall. "South's good! Be careful!"

Sam disappears to take care of East while Dean heads West, which is the back wall of the kitchen. Dean manages to duck a flying blender keen on taking his head off as he hurries towards the wall. The refrigerator door suddenly shoots open, violently knocking into him and sending him spinning backwards off his feet. Dean's right hand reflexively shoots out for purchase to break his fall. And his hand finds it. Flush against the glowing red stove burner which the poltergeist managed to sneak on high. It takes a moment for Dean's nerve endings to catch up and hit his brain. When they do, the reaction is instantaneous

"Ahhhhhhhh!"

Dean drops the hex-bag on the stove and grasps at his ailing paw, the skin pulsing and throbbing, looking and feeling like it's alive. The pain is horrific. It feels like he's holding a ball of fire in his hand. It steals his breath away, leaving him shaky and barely conscious. He falls to the floor, curling his body over his hand as if the unconscious snuggling motion will bring him some comfort.

It's then that Sam sprints back into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding getting bashed in the head with a metal paper towel holder.

"Get…" Dean begins, nodding at the fallen hex-bag.

Sam gets the point. He grabs the last hex-bag and drives it home.

Everything stops. Except for the torturous agony that is Dean's hand. That gets worse.

"Ah," Dean mutters sharply, wincing against the sharp throb.

"Lemme see." Sam crouches before him in full on nurse mode.

Dean shakes his head, not wanting to move his hand and make the pain worse.

"Hey. Stay with me. C'mon. I gotta see how bad he gotcha."

Holding it gently, Dean tentatively lowers his hand, revealing an angry-red and wet-looking palm, painful blisters already forming.

"God, Dean," Sam hisses, but doesn't move. "Stove?" he guesses.

"Ice, dude." Dean answers, desperate for some soothing relief that will counteract the burn searing through his hand and into his whole body.

Sam hauls him to his feet, pinning him against his own body as he wraps his hand around Dean's right wrist, forcing the burned palm under the stream of cool water flowing from the kitchen tap. Dean bucks, cursing loudly.

Before long, Dean's given up fighting and he's trying to hide in Sam's long limbs, once again seeking any kind of comfort that will relieve the pain.

"How're you doin', man?"

"Being stabbed…" breath hitches, "with a hot poker… by redneck hicks…" exhale, "wasn't this bad." Sharp gasp. "Sammy, stop..."

Sam lets him squirm away and Dean curls in on himself, trembling, his eyes releasing a few stray tears of pain and frustration.

"Hospital time." Sam says conclusively and Dean is inclined to agree.

Hours later, Dean slumps next to a dozing Sam on a uncomfortable ER waiting room couch, holding his hand in abject misery. "I can't believe we missed it."

"Missed what?" Sam mumbles, his eyes still closed

"Victoria's Secret. Lingerie. Naked women," Dean moans between breathy whimpers. His knee jumps up and down nervously, his whole body thrumming with pain. "All because of the…ah…damn West side hex-bag. The freakin West always…always…has the scary ass crap associated with it. Wicked Witch of the west. Ouch…ah…West Nile virus. Western Diamondback rattlesnake. "

Sam opens his eyes, looking doubtful. "Dude, there's an Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnake."

"Yeah, well, I bet the Western's bite is worse…ah…oh hell…definitely worse…deadly."

Sam squeezes Dean's shoulder. "You gotta relax, man. They'll see you soon and make it…."

"Relax? I feel like I have a damn sparkler in my hand. It freakin _hurts_, man," Dean whines pitifully. "Not to mention I didn't get to see Heidi walk down the runway in her angel wings this year. I mean, Sammy, you know I don't have a lot of personal traditions what with the way we live, but the Victoria Secret Runway Show…that's practically Christmas and Thanksgiving for me."

"I know, Dean. I know," Sam says, clearly humoring him. "Look, how about when you get out of here, I get you some pie."

Dean's eyes widen in interest. "Pie? What kind of pie?"

"Any kind you want, bro."

"Bon Scott?"

They both look up in relief at the chubby clerk calling out Dean's current alias.

"That's me, sweetheart," Dean breathes, relieved that his fake insurance managed to pass genetic muster. He stands up swiftly only to have a wave of dizziness crash over him that threatens to take him to the ground. Luckily, Sam places a steady hand on his back, keeping him upright.

They proceed to a curtained off triage station where an intern who looks like Gisele Bundchen cleans the wound. The ministrations hurt so badly that Dean actually sobs. After that, he's handed two pills, which he gratefully swallows down and then things aren't so bad anymore. The intern rubs some soothing blue ointment on the wound and then wraps it up with a loose fitting bandage. She tells him to keep the bandage on for two days and to watch the wound for infection.

Actually, she tells Sam that. She tells Dean that yes, while it's true he doesn't need two hands to make love to her, she would prefer it that way. Then she calls security and has them escorted out of the ER.

They walk out into sunlight. Sam guides Dean carefully towards the car.

"Sammy, I think I just got discriminated 'gainst for being a one hand wonder." Dean snorts at his own joke and a little drool comes out of his mouth.

"No dude, actually you just got rejected," Sam says as he settles Dean into the car.

"Rejected?" Dean pokes at his bandaged hand, watching in fascination as the blue goo oozes through the folds.

"Cut that out," Sam quips, gunning the engine. "It's disgusting."

"Rejected," Dean repeats with a pitiful frown. " S' never happened to me b'fore…feels awful."

Sam eyes Dean in sympathy. "How's your hand?"

"Tickles," Dean says dejectedly. He remains sad and quiet for a moment before he suddenly brightens. "Can we get som' pie?" He pauses, then " Y'promised."

Sam regards Dean and then smiles. "I think I can do better than that."

A half hour later and they're back at their motel, Dean attempting to eat a chocolate pie one handed while Sam messes with his computer.

"Pie's awesome, dude," Dean says happily. "Come try some."

"Almost got it," Sam says, still fidgeting with this laptop.

"Almost got what?" Dean asks, his mouth full of pie.

"This," Sam says triumphantly as he flips his computer to face Dean. Sam presses a button and suddenly, the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show explodes to life on the computer screen.

Dean drops his fork, his mouth agape, his eyes lighting up like Christmas. "Heidi!"

"Thought I might catch it on You tube," Sam says as he gets up and sits next to Dean so he can see the screen as well.

Dean nudges Sam hard in the shoulder, his eyes looking suspiciously misty. "Thanks, Sammy."

Sam grins and nudges him right back. "Hey man, I didn't do it for you. I did it for Heidi."

**That's All Folks!**


End file.
